


Sing to Me

by runicmagitek



Category: Final Fantasy VI
Genre: Bad Parenting, Character Study, Childhood, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-08
Packaged: 2018-05-19 06:04:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5956438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With every performance comes a dozen stories which unfolded backstage. The untold tales of thespians linger within curtain calls, tech rehearsals, and dry reads. For the audience only sees the polish center stage and never the imperfections in the cracks hiding past stage left and right. And for every time someone called Setzer dramatic, they continued to fail to see what he hid behind his own curtains. Except for a select few.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sing to Me

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Birthday to the beloved Wandering Gambler himself!

The sole reason he tolerated the chocobo-drawn carriage was due to his mother’s lenience towards the selection of shoes that morning. For once, Setzer was allowed to pick his own.

It was no mystery within the Gabbiani estate as to where the lady’s shoes disappeared to frequently. They were always found underneath Setzer’s bed in a neat row. Of course, each time his mother crossed her arms against her chest and stared him down, Setzer gushed out a series of lies to explain their whereabouts. It was _not_ because of the young boy’s growing interest in the fashion.

“They don’t belong there, Setzer,” she would chide him.

“How do you know that?”

That much was worth a smack upside the head. Afterwards, she forced him to return the shoes to their proper home. Today was different, however. Today, his mother provided him options instead of insisting on what it was he wore. Not that it made much of a difference; whatever Setzer wore was nothing but the most luxurious fabrics and threads Jidoor had to offer. He was better dressed than most gentlemen thrice his age; rather fitting, considering Setzer had been six going on thirty for several months.

While the attendants and his mother were privy to his mischievous antics - absolute chaos as his mother put it - they were also well versed in coaxing him into cooperating. Bribery worked wonders; it did for any child, but for Setzer in particular. Most Jidoorian parents presented toys and candy to silence their child into submission. For Setzer, it was fashion, whether in the form of the gold-heeled shoes or the ruby rings or the fitted, embroidered waistcoats.

And today, important matters were bound to pop up, for when Setzer left the estate in his favorite outfit, it meant his mother expected him to be on his best behavior. Anything to satiate and tame the wild child.

Wherever it was that they were going, it was farther away than he liked. For all he knew, they were in the carriage for years, let alone hours. He folded his arms upon the ledge of the window, cheek crushed against his forearm, and eyes locked onto nothing but grassy plains.

“Setzer,” his mother hissed and whacked his side. “We do _not_ sit like that.”

A massive sigh left him. “But mother, it’s just us.”

“All the better for you to be on your best behavior. Did you leave your manners at home, young man?”

He ignored the chill prickling down his spine and slumped away from his perch. “No, mother,” he muttered with his head hanging low.

“Then sit up straight and for the sake of the gods, _stop_ playing with your rings.”

But he liked twirling them about on his fingers and watching the light catch them just right. Though he preferred sitting in silence than listening to his mother lecture him for the millionth time. He lengthened his spine, no different from his posture when tending a piano, and stared straight ahead at nothing.

“ _Much_ better,” his mother sighed out. “Gods, if only you listened more often.” She rubbed at her temples and mumbled about how his father wouldn’t put up with the nonsense if he was still alive.

“Are we there yet?” Setzer interrupted her.

She groaned. “The more you ask that, the longer it will take us to reach our destination.”

Except she hadn’t even told him where they were going. Or maybe she had and he hadn’t paid attention. Wouldn’t have been the first time; Setzer was plenty occupied with distractions to even be bothered with _things_ like piano lessons and tutors. Why perfect foreign languages and memorize Jidoorian politics when he could spin spare gil coins on the table. Or scout out a passage up to that massive chandelier taunting him in the foyer. Or watch the birds fly by in the garden.

Or sneak out onto the rooftop at night to gaze upon the stars.

But his patience - what little of it was left - paid off when they carriage ceased to move. Setzer failed to contain his excitement while the attendants unlatched and opened the doors. His mother stepped out first, then aided him down the foot ladder to reach the ground. Once his eyes weren’t glue to his feet to ensure a safe descent, he cast them to the profound architecture before him.

Compared to their estate, it was massive. The mixture of wood and stone foundation was lined with marble statues, all seemingly existing in the middle of nowhere. Gas lamps illuminated the premise despite the sun exuding its last rays of light before dusk. A crowd of people flowed up the pronounced stairs and through the impressive double doors, where an event resided inside.

“Mother! Mother!” Setzer tugged at her dress. “What is it?!”

She shooed his hand away. “Setzer, what did I tell you about pulling at other people’s clothing?” She narrowed her eyes onto him. “It’s not polite.”

He pouted. “But... I want to know what it is!”

“Then come along. You’ll know soon enough.”

As she beckoned him to follow, Setzer stayed close to her heels for once in his life. His lips parted the entirety of their short trek to the building. He eyed the other people - all adults draped in extravagant fashions and most were without a doubt from Jidoor - and wondered in awe over how many of them amassed in one location. The holiday galas thrown by his mother were the one comparison he could draw in terms of body count. Then again, not like anyone in Jidoor _needed_ a reason to throw a party.

Whatever _this_ party was, though, Setzer was thrilled to partake instead of confined to his room after hours.

Upon entering the building, a warm hue flooded the interior. Red velvet marked a wide staircase leading up into the second floor, which overlooked the foyer. Thousands of candles illuminated the room, flickering as people conversed in soft, yet delusive words over idle matters. Setzer craned his head back and gasped upon finding oil paintings covering the ceiling. Blurry, rosy paints formed angels, princesses, and knights. All the while, the scent of burning wood and alcohol tickled his nose and brought a smile to his lips.

“Wow!” he exclaimed. “Mother, look at it! It’s amazing-”

“Shhhh!” She bent at the hip to stare him straight in the eye. “Setzer Gabbiani-” Oh gods, she wasn’t joking around now. “-we are at the world renown _opera house_. You are to use your _inside voice_ , young man. We are in the presence of the world’s elite and may I remind you that we are no different, thus we are to act accordingly.”

The smile faded and he stiffened his posture. “Yes, mother.”

She too rose back to standing. “Very good.”

But being on his best behavior was never a lick of fun. While his mother fetched herself a glass of wine and unearthed old friends to converse with, Setzer lingered by her side more like a fashion accessory than her son. She introduced him to every new face which strolled past her and he made sure to perfect his bows and greetings to ensure she didn’t make him regret his decisions later. Everyone, in turn, fawned over his manners.

“How proper and polite he is at such a young age!” they would say. “What a dream it must be to have a well-behaved child. Do tell us your secrets!”

They gossiped and laughed. Setzer had never been more bored to tears. He was starting to wish she never dragged him to this opera whatever place to begin with.

She should have known better, too; he had a knack for amusing himself when his current surroundings failed to hold his interest.

His mother was five ladies and two glasses of wine deep into her conversation about an appalling neighbor when Setzer found his opportunity. With the shifting bodies in the place, he slipped past them with ease and disappeared into the thick crowd. Initially, he hoped to find other children his age. Maybe he could interest them in a game of sorts. Race them up the stairs and slide down the banisters until their parents collected them. Though Setzer never found someone at eye level. More adults than he ever wished to be acquainted with loomed above, every individual ignoring the young boy weaving through them.

A pout jutted his lower lip out. This place was no fun at all.

At least not in the foyer.

The people were more focused on drinking and gossiping than noticing an unattended child, who decided to venture down one of the hallways. No ushers or guards patrolled the corridor as Setzer traveled alone. He broke into a slight run, wishing to escape the chaos behind him, only to slow down to marvel at more oil paintings and marble statues. Lush, red carpets paved the path as bouquets of roses and lilies sat in alcoves. The lights dimmed as he ventured further down.

The chatter of the folk from the foyer died out into a distant murmur, but it was replaced with a new bustle of excitement.

Attendants zipped by at the end of a corridor, yelling orders at others he could not see. A moment later, more raced by them with what appeared to be a dress rack. His mother had one just like it. The more he inched towards the end of the corridor, the louder the voices grew. His heart raced and his eyes widened right as he peeked around the corner to witness the commotion.

It was another room with tall ceilings and jam packed with people, unlike the nobles parading with glass goblets in their hands. The candlelight was sparse there, however, but the dark figures each flame outlined showed men and women dressed in either fantastical attire or nothing but undergarments.

Mouth gaping and eyes staring, Setzer shuffled towards the spectacle.

These folk didn’t weave white lies with golden thread upon their tongues; they spoke plainly, honestly, and loudly. What mattered most was not the thoughts of mere acquaintances but fastening costumes and perfecting make-up. Though this was unlike his mother’s preparations for the opera house; everyone in the dark perimeter prepared for another type of party.

Instead of statues and paintings, there were vanity mirrors reflecting a hundred different, beautiful faces. Some marched by in full costume: immense dresses twice the width of his mother’s and shoes far more glamorous than anything he had ever laid eyes upon. Even the hairstyles pushed the limit of exorbitant, bundled up in curls and braids to add another foot onto every individual’s head. Unlike in the foyer, Setzer was at peace with being ignored here.

Smiles - _genuine_ smiles - adorned all of their faces. Soon the elation spread to Setzer and tugged his lips upwards.

He was thrown into an outlandish storm, not caring for a second if it tore him away from reality. What existed before Setzer was more than he could imagine in his creative head. The spectacles rushing past him were what dreams were made of; he wanted to be a part of whatever world these people existed in.

A set of women stormed by, bumping him in the process. As Setzer lost his balance and stumbled backwards, he crashed into the stool of one lady slaving over her make-up before a vanity mirror. However, her massive dress pooled around the stool and swallowed Setzer up in the process. Once knocked to the floor, Setzer made little sense of his new surroundings. Then again, no one had given him a crash course of a lady’s undergarments... well, ever. Not like _this_. Some of his peers talked of getting smacked in public for looking up a lady’s dress. Setzer began to fear the same fate upon catching sight of lace upon thick legs.

What he wasn’t prepared for, though, was a round of laughter bursting from around him.

“By the gods! Is that what I think it is?!”

“You got yourself a little fan there, my dear. Quite literally!”

“Oh, piss off! I’m going to break a rib from laughing so hard!”

“Bet he’s learning _a lot_ more than those prissy nobles in Jidoor could ever pay for.”

The layers of fabric lifted and revealed his panicked expression. Looming above were painted faces, each one beautiful in its own way. Setzer stared at them, his lips ajar. They were all so _stunning_ and he feared he didn’t know the words to express that to them.

Again they giggled, then a hand bopped the top of his head from behind. Setzer tilted his head back until he found a set of brilliant blue eyes framed by golden blonde hair.

“Enjoy the view, boyo?” She grinned at him and winked. “Get lost?”

Setzer shook his head and the ladies around him roared in laughter.

“Sounds like you’re the sort to be looking for trouble, yeah?” The woman tilted her head and kept the smile upon her lips. “Like it back here?” To that, Setzer nodded in an instant. “Thought so. Bet it’s more interesting than out _there_.” The woman knitted her brows together. “I didn’t think they allowed children to come to the opera house.”

“Oh, you know how Jidoorians are,” one of the others butted in with poison on her tongue. “Doesn’t take much to convince them to drag a poor child out to all of this. Poor thing must be bored to tears with whatever _socializing_ they’re doing before the show.” She chuckled. “No wonder he’s made his way back here!”

“Can’t blame him!” another added.

“So,” the blonde addressed him, “does our little troublemaker have a name?”

To that, Setzer forced himself onto his feet. He brushed his pants down, straightened his jacket, and stood as tall as he could.

“My name is Setzer Gabbiani,” he said with a grave, proper bow, yet with a trembling voice. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all.”

After a beat, the small audience of ladies he amassed tilted their heads and _awwww!_ in unison. They exchanged words with each over how damn adorable he was. One of them patted his head. Another said he was a troublemaker _and_ a heart breaker; a dangerous combination if she ever saw one.

All the while, Setzer couldn’t help but smile and puff his tiny chest out.

“Well then, _Monsieur_ Gabbiani,” the blonde said with a quirk in her lips, “what do you say that we send you with a welcoming gift on behalf of the opera house’s acting troupe before returning you to your parents?”

He was beyond overjoyed to even correct her on the notion he had but one living parent. Setzer gasped and his eyes glistened in the dim lights.

Taking his expression to be a yes, the woman rose from her stool and beckoned for Setzer to take her place. He did, scrambling to his seat to come eye to eye with his reflection. The others crowded behind him while the blonde sifted through her make-up kit. From it, she plucked out a small brush and a tiny container of a deep reddish-purple paste. He watched in awe as she dipped her brush into the creamy substance, flicking away the excess. She instructed him to part his lips just right and then with quick flicks of her wrist, began to brush the color onto his pout.

The strokes were effortless in his eyes, though no different from how others witnessed his sleight-of-hand tricks with gil. Setzer tried his best to study her movements, but instead he was mesmerized by it all. The entire time, the ladies flocking him like vultures held their breath and also watched.

And when she was done, she gestured for Setzer to check the mirror. Once more, Setzer gasped, though his smile was brimming. His lips were defined identical to the ladies he encountered - just as lovely, too. The color popped against his attire and Setzer couldn’t stop admiring himself. What wasn’t there to like?

“Do you like it?” one of the women asked.

Words couldn’t convey his happiness. Even his enthusiastic nod did no justice to the sentiment swelling within.

They helped him down from his seat and guided him past the backstage and towards the hallways which would return him to the foyer. The ladies waved their farewells, each one blowing him kisses in his departure. Halfway down the hallway, Setzer pivoted on his heel and bowed to the gracious ladies once again. They giggled and he grinned. Then they parted ways to return to the matters which required their attention.

If only those in the foyer were more welcoming than the thespians backstage.

His mother hadn’t been talking another socialite’s ear off and instead was combing the crowds in an anxious disarray. When her eyes settled onto him, any excitement which bubbled to life within Setzer wilted away. She rushed up to Setzer, the grimace more evident the closer she came. He braced himself for an open palm snapping across the face, but instead she bent down to level herself with him and sliced through his soul with a keen stare.

“Where have you been?” she hissed, enunciating each word.

“I... didn’t go far,” he began. “I was just-”

“You _left_ the foyer! That’s far enough in my book!”

He dared to narrow his eyes onto her. “I was bored!”

She drew in a breath. Had it not been for the sea of people around them, she would have slapped him. No question about it. With the additional eyes on them, she thought her actions through. A shame that was what it took for his mother to reconsider her choices in disciplining her son.

“And _what_ is this?”

Setzer blinked. “What?”

She latched onto his chin and forced his face to hers. “This nonsense _smeared_ onto your mouth.”

“It’s lipstick.”

“ _What_?”

Before Setzer could explain all the fun which transpired backstage, his mother was plucking out a handkerchief to blot out the supposed mess on his face. He imagined she only made it worse on top of ruining a perfectly good handkerchief. But Setzer knew when to bite his tongue, even if he didn’t like it. Some days, being able to survive and keep his pride from damaging was better than standing up for what he truly believed in.

So he let his mother take away the one thing which kept him sane before the show. He let her drag him to their seats in the mezzanine. He let her strike fear - or at least he let her assume she had - into his soul to remain quiet throughout the entire performance.

And when the house lights died, the curtains rose, the orchestra boomed to life, and the spotlights illuminated center stage, Setzer knew it was all worth it.

He might not have understood all the complexities within the performance, but what he did know was the effort which was placed into it. Everything in the fantasy was seamless, fluid. No different from the one who created beauty for his lips. The production was like a daydream in his head brought to life. How could he not like it? How could _anyone_ not like it? The production value alone rivaled with most galas in Jidoor. The music filled his soul and the actors never ceased to make him smile.

That smile never left even when intermission was called for. Or when the performance was over altogether. Or when he and his mother took their carriage back home for a long, silent ride. Even tucked into bed, Setzer continued to smile, hoping his dreams could compete with the majesty he witnessed that evening.

Next time, his mother didn’t need to bribe him with shoes to tag along.


End file.
